


April 2017 Drabble

by BigBad_Wolfy



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: 400w limit, BVDN, Drabble, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 09:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBad_Wolfy/pseuds/BigBad_Wolfy
Summary: Another late BVDN post. 400w limit, 40min time limit, mature. This one's got some yummy bits.





	April 2017 Drabble

**Author's Note:**

> Can be another drabble post! So soon? This one is from April 2017, and you're in for a treat; it was a mature BVDN and unlike the last post this is rated M. Yay! Get comfy, grab some wine and enjoy. Please do leave feedback.
> 
> Word limit was probably 400 and time 40 minutes. All but the last two prompts are not connected.

Catalyst

Life was all about duality. Good and evil. Night and day. Male and female. Tabs and slots. And right now a smoking hot Saiyan Prince was inserting his Tab D into her welcoming Slot V.

After he had confronted her in her lab last month with droids crushed into perfect cubes there was no more avoiding him. She couldn’t if she tried. She was drawn to him, like a magnet. Her positive needed his negative.

His confronting her at last was the catalyst that set them off on a slew wild, late night, random, rendezvous.

His breath hitched, his gasps hitting her ears in twins puffs of electric charged air. Little things like that gave her a high and set blood buzzing.

She liken these moments with him to riding a boat on the wild ocean, waves of feeling, peaking with tingles running across her skin, lolling during shifts of positon and tempo.

As with all things in life beginning must have ends.

The rolling, rollicking waves would eventually bring them both back to shore, gasping, soaked in sweat and still holding on for dear life.

It was a bit simplistic but it more often than not it held true that life could be boiled down to pairs.

Bulma was beginning to feel he was just the catalyst her life needed to combat the inhibitors of routine and sameness.

 

Energy

He caused all kinds of crazy chemical reactions in her. She was an engineer; mechanics, engines, motors, that was all her kind of thing. She got good enough grades in chemistry but often had to look things up before she could be confident of an answer.

But, she knew for sure it was adrenaline that caused her heart rate to spike when his voice would drop into those low, sultry timbres; his voice grated across her skin like water over river rock. It was also adrenaline and cortisol that wound her up when he would whispered to her that she “looked hot when she was on her knees before him” as she grappled with wiring and circuitry. It was that damned adrenaline that gave her a thrill when he hiked up her skirt and pushed her panties aside when her father could walk in on them at any moment.

Using deft fingers he would wind her up, potential energy building in her until it could not be contained and she would explode as serotonin bathed her brain and electric shocks radiated from her core. He’d then descend upon her and ride that kinetic wave, in an erotic dance of mechanical energy that would crescendo in their combined sound waves echoing of the gravity room walls. Spent, and drowning in oxytocin they’d come to rest, until an errant sound would rouse them into action and send them flying apart like repelling magnets, leaving Dr. Brief to wonder at the strange energy abuzz in the room.

 

Boiling Point

In her work Bulma often dealt with the properties of metals.  Ductility, hardness, tensile strength, strength vs weight, melting points, cyclictic loading and the effects of heat were things she needed to know in designing the latest vehicles. Helping her father build the space ship that took Goku to Namek had her diving into metallurgy far deeper than she ever anticipated.

It was during that time that she discovered that there is no real set boiling point for steel. It was made up of too many other elements, like carbon, chromium and nickel, to pinpoint one temperature.

She figured that Vegeta was something like that. It seemed she could push his buttons, until he became flustered or until he melted at her touch into a puddle of orgasmic bliss, but she never seemed to fully set him off in true rage at her, no matter how heated their arguing got. Arguments usually climaxed into sex. They would eventually melt together. Just as they did tonight.

She sighed, stretching, basking in the afterglow, but only until she remembered what she needed to tell him. And then all of a sudden the room seemed stuffy, and she could not find a comfortable positon. She shifted. And there would be silence. Someone’s stomach made overly loud groans. Was it hers? Nervously flip flopping?

She shifted again. And the routine started over. And again she shifted.

“What is bothering you woman?”

His voice was like the drop of heavy steel beam, shattering her thoughts like comparatively soft and brittle concrete. Bits of her thoughts went flying like broken shards and she scrambled to gather them up into something coherent.

“I’m a bit- I’m a bit late this month.”

Silence.

He grunted. “Late for what? The last update you made to the gravity chamber was done sufficiently without interruption to my training schedule.”

“I took a test.”

His brows knit, an odd feeling of unease washed over him, jolting him out of post coital bliss. He was sure he didn’t want this conversation to continue.

And it didn’t. For an uncomfortable amount of time.

“I’m pregnant.”

The next five minutes seemed to last forever, when she remembered back on it. There was a lot of yelling. He was so angry. He reminded her of the man that ruthlessly killed on Namek. For the first time since then, she was afraid of him. But he left. Leaving her alone in her room. In the dark.

 

Oxidation

When metal rusts it’s basically burning. Very, very slowly. The oxidizing of steel is much the same as a chunk of wood oxidizing. They just oxidized at different rates.

Before Vegeta seemingly crash landed in her life she felt like her essential female parts were going to rust and seize up from disuse. Now that he had stolen a ship and run off into space she was back in the same boat.

A month into his absence and she was convinced her vag was rusting. Was she that attached to him? That would be vasopressin at work.

She pushed away from the computer before her, wheeled chair clicking over the tile seams as she squeezed her eyes shut and kneaded her forehead with both hands. She slouched back in her chair, slumped back then spread out like a beached star fish.

In the dark of her lab only the weak light of the flickering computer monitor accompanied her. At 2 in the morning she was certain she was the only one awake.

She hated herself for wishing he was still here. This would be the time of night he’d sneak into her room, or she into his.

Her hands came to rest on her cheeks as she let out a sigh.

Mmm. Could he ever make her sigh! His hot breath on her ear, burning a trail of heated breath down her neck; nips and nibbles here and there like points of interest on trail map.

Her fingers lingered lowered, delicately upon her collar bone, imagining his mouth there instead as he loomed over her, hardened shaft nudging at her thigh. She imagined grabing his lean hips, trying to center him right where she wanted him to be. She grasped at her own hips.

She slipped her fingers past the band of her short pants and panties, making quick work of herself. Taking control of the memory and distorting it to her favor.

In the end however she was left feeling like cold steel. Still rusting.

 

 

Reduction

Cooking was a science, right?

So of course she could make a great sauce to go with a roast. It was all a matter of following the directions of her mother’s recipe. Simple! Her genius brain could handle that simple task!

The red wine mixture she managed to not screw up sat in the skillet, watery, ruddy, and still. She checked under the pan, propane fueled flames licked at the stainless steel bottom, but the red concoction did not bubble. The recipe said medium heat. That was medium heat. Wasn’t it?

The sounds of the gas stove were drowned out by the ticking of the black cat clock on the wall. Its eyes mocking her, its wagging tail swaying in time with the imaginary laughter.

Vegeta sauntered in, just wanting to grab a bottle of water and a quick bite to eat after his morning training session.

“Oh, shit.” He thought. “She’s trying to cook again.”

He quickly assessed the scene. Stove top. Okay not baked goods. Was there some kind of special occasion? It wasn’t Winter, so not Christmas. Trunks had gone to Kakarot’s. Not the boy’s birthday. Her parents were on some business trip, so not their anniversary. So, what? What was it?

Time to intervene, and quick. He swooped in with inhuman speed, he was soon looming behind her as much as his 5 feet and 5 inches would allow. “Something smells good.” He offered, voice low and rasping.

Bulma cast him annoyed glance.

Crap. Time to turn up the heat. He wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her into him and nuzzling her neck. She gave in, letting him pull her in.

“It must be you,” Vegeta growled. “You smell good enough to eat.”

“Vegeta,” She whined, “I’m kind of busy right now. I need to reduce this wine.”

“I thought you preferred to drink it, not cook it.”

“I do but,” she broke off as he nipped at her neck and his fingers slipped under her skirt hem to stroke at her cleft through her panties.

“This- This is taking too long.” She muttered.

Indeed it is, he agreed silently, it’s time to go in for the kill.

 

Bond (cont’d from previous.)

“Allow me to offer a distraction,” he purred. “After all a watched pot never boils,” he added, parroting off something he had once heard her mother say while she prepared a meal for him.

He dove in before she could ask about his Earthling idiomatic knowledge, pushing past her underwear and straight to the point of her pleasure center. Her hands grasped at the counter top edge, plastic spoon slipping out of her hold to clatter to the floor.

He held her hips fast to him with one hand as he stroked a slow, teasing rhythm over her clit, making her cry out in short high pitched gasps and mewls. When he was sure she was in his control he let the hand at her hip roam higher up the landscape of her body, up across the curve of her waist, over her delicate ribcage until it came to rest at the base of her breast.

Through the fabric of her red dress he pinched and rolled her nipple, first one, then the other. The scent of her arousal intermingled with acidic wine, putting his mind in foggy haze. The smell brought to mind past memories, of wine tinged kisses on a dark balcony.

He kneed her legs apart as he pulled her further into him, pushing her skirt up over her pert ass. Grasping his hardened cock and freeing himself from his training shorts. Roughly he pushed past her panties, gliding into her with ease.

He groaned as her warmth swallowed him. Gods, that feeling never got old! Bonded as one flesh, he moved slow at first, working up to high speed, urged on by her cries.

“More!” She begged. “Faster!” She pleaded.

Slapping flesh echoed off the kitchen walls, in time with the mocking, ticking cat clock.

“Oh! I’m coming!”

He muttered curses. So close, almost there. As he released she screamed in a high pitch he had never heard before. So loud. Oh fuck. That’s really loud!

Burning smoke filled the air as the smoke alarm squealed. Bulma pulled away, grabbing at the burnt pan, removing it from the flame and dumping it into the sink, trying to dowse the smoldering sauce remnants.

“It’s ruined!” she cried.

Mission accomplished, Vegeta thought as he tucked himself back into his training shorts. Whatever that was it wasn’t going to come out great anyway.

“What was that supposed to be for any way?” he asked, “A science experiment?”

Bulma pouted. “I wanted to make something nice for your birthday.”

His brows knitted in thought. It was Spring. The Earthling month of April, which they figure was most likely his birth month when they once compared the Earth calender to the Standard Galactic calender.

“I just got what I wanted today.” He said smirking. “I don’t require anything more special than that.”

Bulma cast a sad glance at the sauce, burnt and completely bonded to the skillet, and then to her Saiyan Prince. He may not have meant that sound so nice, but it did. She wrapped him in hug.

“Oh well. I really preferred getting dressed and going out to dinner than staying in and cooking.”

Vegeta’s look of accomplishment vanished. “Damn. Now how am I going to get out of this?”


End file.
